Only A Girl
by PrincessClara
Summary: When an ordinary girl makes one misstep that turns her into the most powerful being in the universe, everyone wants to take that power for their own. But some want it more than others... Will the Doctor be able to rescue the girl from his great foe? Or will the universe pay the price? With all your favorite characters, everyone is picking sides in this gripping Wholock crossover.
1. Prologue

*Just to clarify, at this point the Doctor is Eleven. He's married to River Song, but the Ponds are still traveling with him. He and Rose have never met. When John was a boy, the Doctor saved him from an invasion, and they haven't seen each other since. Sherlock and John live together, and have solved a few crimes, but this is before Reichenbach. The Great Game ended differently, without John there, and Moriarty offered Sherlock a deal and he agreed to it. The Doctor thinks the Master died, but he escaped a second time. The Master and Moriarty have met before; Jim used one of his "Rich Brook" tricks to make the Master into Harold Saxon.*

**Prologue**

She slid behind the crumbled wall, cowering in the shadow of the bricks. The footsteps echoed off the patches of stone all around her, thundering toward her hiding spot. She glanced at the watch on her wrist. Fifteen minutes. She still had to wait fifteen minutes to get out of here.

As the footsteps passed, she held her breath, praying as hard as she could that they wouldn't find her. Only when they faded from her ears did she let herself exhale.

_Is this all really worth it?_ She asked herself, breathing deeply. The answer, she knew, was no. Of course not.

But she had no choice now.

She was different. She had changed. And she could never go back. Now, all she could do was run.

Run, and learn how to make the running easier.

Peering around the corner, she looked to see if the coast was clear. Suddenly a hand shot out and wrapped around her throat, cutting off her air.

"There she is." A rough voice hissed. "The golden girl. You're supposed to be dead, little lady. Now why aren't you?"

She stared down into the face of her captor, a man not too much older than her, with stubble dotting his chin. A wicked smile was plastered on his face. He squeezed harder and harder. Her nails scraped feebly at the backs of his hands, desperate for freedom. He would kill her. In just a few moments, she'd be dead.

_No. Not like this. After all I've survived, NOT LIKE THIS._

Slowly, she reached out one hand and put it near his neck. He laughed, convinced she was failing at fighting against him.  
But soon, that laugh turned into a choking gasp, and one of the man's hands released her to fly to his own chest. She sucked in more air, steadying her own breathing as his became more harried by the second. Concentrating, she focused the energy coursing through her hand into a pinpoint, assuring that it would all enter his body at the most lethal capacity possible.

_I have to do this. _She told herself as his grip on her released, and she dropped to the ground, fumbling for just a moment to stay on her feet. _If I let him live, he'll tell them about me. That I'm still alive and about what I can do. There's no other option. This is the only way. _

The man sank to his knees, clutching his chest with a vice grip. She didn't know how, or what was really happening, but soon he would be dead. She wasn't a killer. Not before. But things were different now; people were out to get her. Out to destroy her.  
She had to defend herself.

But as much as it turned her stomach, she couldn't look away as he fell onto his back. She kept watching as he choked and sputtered. Still as stone she stood, even when he reached out to her with one feeble hand, his lips forming a single "Please…"  
She couldn't look away, because she had to know how it felt. She had to see his death, and remember that she caused it. She had to remember so she wouldn't make it a habit.

The man's eyes glazed over and his hand fell to the ground. His chest rose and fell one last time, then went still. A tear rolled down her face, landing only a few feet from his body. She could hear the footsteps returning. She knew she had to move.

Her watch beeped softly. Turning her hand over and over, she inspected the blue and violet waves of light emanating from it. The fifteen minutes were up.  
She closed her eyes; she concentrated.

And just like that, Rose Tyler disappeared.


	2. Chapter 1: The Doctor

**The Doctor**

The TARDIS swerved, nearly knocking him of his feet. He hadn't experienced this much turbulence in 200 years, and he was a bit out of practice.  
Sliding around in a hectic frenzy, he flipped switches, clicked buttons, turned dials, all while pleading with the machine.

"Come on, old girl." He hissed, as another bump sent him flying into the air. "Come on! Stabilize already, will you!"

He slid to the farthest lever on his left, and swiped it down with one quick pull. The TARDIS stopped rocking, floating smoothly on its current.

He collapsed into a chair, sighing in relief. With a glance up the stairs, he marveled at the fact that his companions had slept through all that. A sudden impulse to shout up the stairs and disturb their slumber struck him, but he resisted, pulling his psychic paper from his jacket. He had felt a message during the turbulence, but chose to prioritize.

"Hey you." He looked up at the voice. Amy stood at the stairs, a fluffy pink robe wrapped around her body and her ginger hair tousled and messy. Rory, behind her, looked just as unkempt in a sloppy t-shirt and boxers, his hair spiked up in odd places.

"The Ponds are awake!" The Doctor called in a chipper voice from the chair, beaming at them. "Slept well, I hope?"

Amy scratched her head as she descended the steps. "What was with all the bumping about a bit ago, eh?" She griped. "Nearly knocked me out of bed, you moron."

"Well, good morning to you too." He sprang from the chair and pressed more buttons on the screen, slipping the psychic paper into his jacket pocket. "The TARDIS hit a couple bumps. Some turbulence in the time vortex."

"Turbulence?" Amy's eyes lit right up. "Like something's messing with the flight?"

He shook his head quickly, not even glancing at her. "No, too localized. It's someone. I got a message on the psychic paper. Someone is trying to warn me about this." He pointed to the screen as Amy and Rory moved to his sides. "Look at these readings. Minor disturbances all over the universe, on dozens of random planets in random galaxies, but all the same. And all originating from Earth."

Rory shook his head. "Wait, I don't understand. If they're from Earth, how can they be all over the universe?"

"You know when you have a pebble, and you toss it into some water? And it ripples outward, affecting the whole thing?" The Doctor quipped.

"Oh." Rory nodded. "I get it now."

"Good. Because it's nothing like that." Rory rolled his eyes, but the Time Lord didn't notice. "Someone has been hopping all over the world, tampering with the time stream. Going back and forth in time, too."

"Sounds like us." Amy piped up. Both the guys looked at her, listening intently. "Could it be another traveler? Maybe someone with a TARDIS?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, this energy is unrefined." He stepped back from the console and started pacing, trying to explain it all. "See, the TARDIS was built to manipulate the vortex's energy. To dilute it and use it properly. But this, this stuff is raw. No one can handle that, not without destroying themselves and ripping the universe in half."

Rory and Amy held each other's hands, the fear on their faces evident. He hardly paid attention. There were more important concerns on his mind. "Whoever it is, we have to find them and protect them."

"Protect them?!" Amy exclaimed, hurling herself toward him. "If this thing is so dangerous, shouldn't we be putting a stop to it? Or, better yet, destroying it?!"

He stopped, freezing in his place. His features turned cold, as if in sync with his motions, and he turned slowly toward her. If Amy was afraid before, after seeing him like this, she was terrified.  
"Amy." He said slowly, his voice low and foreign to her ears. "Come here."

She stepped nearer to him, wary. He reached out to her, putting an arm around her shoulders firmly and pointing to the screen. "Do you see that?"

"Yeah, so?" She nodded, peering at the display. "Just looks like a bunch of blinking dots to me."

"This," He explained carefully, "Is a tracking system. With this, I can see exactly where the raw energy was used, and even trace the vessel's steps this very second. And it's not just me. Anyone with even minimal equipment has access to this information."

He turned her toward him, putting his face closer to hers. He still didn't smile. "So answer me this, Amelia. If this is all the work of some criminal mastermind, intent on destroying the entirety of time and space, would they really leave such an obvious trail of bread crumbs?"

Amy took a step back, appearing to finally understand. The Doctor breathed in and out slowly, trying to control himself. Things had gotten much harder for him, now that the Ponds were only around for short periods of time. He was alone more than he knew he should be. His mercy was running low, even for the people closest to him.  
"Whoever is doing this is an amateur. I'd bet my hat they have no clue what they're doing or how dangerous it could be. We need to find them, and fast," He looked up at his companions, his eyes ablaze with a determined fire.  
"Before someone else does first."


	3. Chapter 2: The Master

**The Master**

"Sir," The steward stepped tentatively into the room, his voice no more than a squeak. "There's someone here to see you."

The Master rolled his eyes, exasperated at the mere idea of company. "Who on earth could find it necessary to disturb me now?" He wondered aloud, turning his spinning chair so that his back was to the door. "Send them away."

The steward hesitated. When he spoke up again, his voice cracked, and it sounded like he was crying. "Sir, I don't think you understand."  
At this, the Master turned around, rage blooming in his mind. How dare this imbecile propose such a thing as that he, of all people, did not understand something?! But upon seeing the man clearly for the first time, he did understand. Wrapped around the steward's body in an intertwining maze that even his superior mind could not have devised, were wires, dozens of them, all hooked up to a timer on his chest. And the clock was clicking down from two minutes.

The man's face was pale as a sheet, and he swallowed, trying to clear his throat of the tears. "He was very persistent, sir."

"Oh… I see." The Master stood from his chair, circling the contraption on the man's body. The intricacy of it was intriguing. Only one man could have done this, he decided, and he was not one to be ignored. "Show him in."

Stunned into silence, the steward nodded and rushed out of the room. As calmly as possible, the Master selected a bottle of wine from the rack on the wall, pouring two generous glasses with his back to the entrance. As he picked one up and tipped it to his lips, the door swung open wide.

"Welcome, old friend." He turned to look at the man who had entered, matching his eerie smile.  
The young man was just over thirty, nowhere near middle aged. His hair was slicked back smoothly, and he wore a suit jacket and tie in a dark grey color. Sunglasses covered his eyes, and he chewed a piece of gum vigorously between whitened teeth.

He slid into one of the plush chairs, looking at the Master with sick satisfaction. "Seems I made quite the impression on that little man of yours."

"Don't you always?" The Master sipped his wine, keeping the smile fresh. "Good old Jim. Can always count on you to never change."

James Moriarty shrugged. "Hope it's not boring you. We all know your kind is so hard to keep entertained."

"Doubt you could bore me if you tried." The Master took a larger swig from the glass, feeling it buzz through his veins. The man seated before him was volatile, and dangerous without fault. There was no way to tell when he would go off, and certainly no way to stop Jim when he got going.  
The two of them were just alike.

"Do you know anything about the laws of time, James?"

Moriarty just laughed. "Busy man as I am? Time is for ordinary people… And you."

A small chuckle escaped the Master's throat. "On the contrary. In the right hands, time can be a very valuable weapon indeed. Specifically, the energy it provides."  
He took a file from his desk drawer and passed it to the other man. Moriarty picked up the folder with suspicion, lifting his glasses to examine its contents.

"Raw time energy is a very dangerous thing Jim. You play games with your little bombs for fun, but what can they destroy? A city block? Less?" Shaking his head, he sank into the other chair and crossed his legs. "With this, entire planets and galaxies can be erased. With this... the universe is but a plaything."

"And you're trying to tell me that this raw energy," Moriarty held up the first picture in the file and rose one eyebrow, "Is a girl?"

The Master grinned at the blonde in the picture, her hair swept around her head in a golden halo. She had curved lips and a figure to match, and was floating almost a full four feet off the ground. Her eyes shone with the blue-violet energy, turning yellow as it spread to the rest of her body and diluted in the air. She was pretty, yes, but what was resting inside her, that was beautiful.  
"She is just the source. She was exposed to the time vortex, as I was when I was a child. But she absorbed the raw energy; sucked it up like a sponge. That should have killed her… But she's alive."

Moriarty chuckled. "I know the type."

"The girl herself won't be a problem." He leaned forward. "But the energy, the sheer power of the time vortex, that will take massive technology to harness. Without, you know, tearing a hole in the fabric of reality."

Jim laughed, tipping his head back. "And where's the fun in that?" The Master couldn't help but chuckle a bit at his dark humor; it touched on that side of his own self. Moriarty flipped through the file as he talked, turning it side to side to see a few of the pictures better. "When I got your message, I thought it was another identity trick you wanted to pull off. Thought you just wanted to disappear again. But this," he shook his head in awe, "This is really something else."

"If we construct this machine, the power of all the universe is in the palms of our hands. We can create and destroy worlds, make even the strong and powerful submit. Bring the dead back to life… Even sustain life itself." The Master glimpsed a flicker of greed in the other man's face, the likes of which he had seldom seen. "And you can help me. Together, imagine what our minds can do…"

Jim nodded slowly, closing the folder and putting in delicately on the table next to the chair. "Brilliant plan… But you're carefully overlooking a certain, how you say, snag in the plotting." He grinned, gesturing outwardly with his hands. "What about your old pal? The one with the box, and his little human pets?"

The Master wrinkled his nose at the thought. "The Doctor won't be an issue. He dares not rear his ugly head again; the last time meant his death, and you know how much he hates doing that. He's easy to deal with."

"Funny. His record books say the same thing about you."

"Are you in or not?!" The Master practically exploded, his hands on his temples.

James smiled, tilting his head just a tad to the side. "Of course. I couldn't very well let you crash and burn from afar, now could I?"

The entire ordeal was making his head spin, in truth. For Moriarty, this may have only been a game. But for the Master, this was serious. He needed the energy, needed to refine it and take it for his own. The life force he was able to salvage in his last regeneration was so scarce that he was sickly and feeble. If he couldn't have the energy, he would never be able to regenerate again. He would die… like a human, pathetic and weary.  
"We need to get the girl." The Master continued. "When we have her, she'll fuel the machine. I have my resources, of course, but I know you have more. First thing to do is find her."

Moriarty nodded, smiling. "I know just the man."


	4. Chapter 3: Sherlock Holmes

**Sherlock Holmes**

Sherlock snapped the phone shut, taking a swig from the mug on the table. The call had hardly disturbed him, but the fact that while he was taking it his coffee got cold was quite unsettling. In all seriousness, he had seen this coming for quite some time now. That day at the poolside, the day he refused to take the bullet, he made a pledge. And that vow was coming back to haunt him.  
But out of all the ways to pay a debt, this wasn't too bad.

John walked down the stairs from his room, going right into the kitchen without so much as a glance in Holmes's direction. His hair was spiked up strangely, and sheet marks striped his face. He came back into the sitting room in his dressing robe, munching on a piece of toast and reading the paper that was on the counter.  
"Morning." Watson said lazily without looking up.

"Mm." Sherlock mumbled, staring out the window in a sort of dead-wall reverie. The ordeal that had been brought to his attention took over his mind. He had no time for idle chat.

John looked up at his friend, fully dressed in the chair, and raised one eyebrow. "So, no case, I assume?"

"Not a single one." Holmes let himself sigh. He had to admit, even with the new news, not having detective work depressed him. He caught sight of the pack of cigarettes on the far counter and had to grip his mug tighter to resist grabbing one. Maybe I should spring for the fourth patch…

"What about the woman in the rose bush?" Watson asked, tilting his head to the side.

Sherlock rubbed his temples with long elegant fingers. "Solved. The brother-in-law."

"The man under the motorbike?"

"Poisoned by his ex-wife."  
Sherlock stood all of a sudden, buttoning his suit jacket. He would have loved to continue this mindless conversation with his flat-mate, but he simply couldn't. The mission had to be carried out, and the sooner he began, the better. Who knew how much time he even had.  
Hah, time is such a funny thing, isn't it?

"I'm going out." He announced, grabbing his scarf and coat. John looked at him in shock and amusement, but didn't bother to ask where he was heading. "I've got business to attend to. Don't wait up."

Without a second glance, he turned his back and walked out the door, leaving the army doctor still in the chair, puzzling over the oddity of his friend's antics.

The large window of the café looked out on the busy street, the people passing by as clear as could be. Sherlock took the seat nearest to it, pulling a chair over and trying not to stare. The waitress offered him a cup of tea. He declined, but not before noticing that her honeysuckle perfume had somehow made an appearance on one of the chefs he walked by on the way in.

He squinted a bit trying to see past the glare of the sun. Each and every person who walked by registered in his mind, and he scanned them over and over like a machine. He couldn't miss this chance. If he did, he would lose everything; literally, everything.  
One passerby caught his eye. A woman, obviously, and young as well. Golden hair flared out from under the hood of her jacket, and her eyes were shielded by the shadow. Her hands were buried deeply in her pockets, and she shrank behind the crowd, as if hoping to disappear. Outfitted in denim and grey with her head dipped low, she was as inconspicuous as they come.  
But to him, she stood out like a diamond in a pit of coal.

She was moving fast and he had to act quickly. He stood abruptly, the plan still only half-formed in his mind. He swiped a to-go coffee cup out of the hand of the man sitting nearby, replying to his outraged cry by slapping a few notes onto the table, more than enough to pay for the drink. Stuffing a few handfuls of napkins into his coat pocket, he popped the top off the cup and strutted outside.

He slowed his pace to a casual sort of strut, keeping his eyes on the buildings and shops that towered around him. The entire street bustled, and each person had a story. Sad ones, happy ones, stories that could start a war. All of them different, all just waiting to be read.  
If only he had the time.

And, three… two… one…

He shouldered into someone; well, more accurately, slammed into them. The girl shrieked a little as the coffee sloshed out of its cup, creating a large dark blotch all over her chest.

"Oh my… I am so sorry!" He pitched his voice, mustering his best apologetic face. "Good lord, I can be such a dunce sometimes…"

She shook her head, staring helplessly down at her ruined jacket. "Ah… It's alright. I should have paid more attention to where I was headed." Looking up at him, she forced a forgiving smile. He couldn't help but notice her deep brown eyes, like pools of chocolate that he could have fallen right into. If he were a weaker man, that is. "Just got a little lost in thought, I suppose."

Pulling a good amount of the tissues out, he offered them to her with a friendly grin. "I know how that can be." She took the napkins gratefully, and dabbed away at the huge stain on her front. Some of the area lightened a bit, but altogether, the jacket was soiled. He sucked his teeth in shame as she sighed hopelessly.

"This is just not one of my better days." She tried to add humor to the sentence, but her voice cracked halfway through. The unmistakable sheen of tears pooled beneath her eyelids, and he felt his heart soften a tad bit.

Shaking his head, he leaned toward her. "I am really… very sorry. If there's anything I can do…" He reached out to her, about to put a hand on her arm, but she shrank back quickly as though she was afraid he would strike her.

"No!" He pulled away, and she kept talking, getting faster as fear colored her words. "It's really okay, sir. I'm kind of in a hurry, though, so I should be going. Nice to meet you."  
She stepped around him swiftly and started off down the street, her shoulders hunched even more than before the meeting.  
But he wasn't about to let her go that easily.

"Wait!" Weaving around people and objects, he came up behind her and placed a firm palm on her shoulder.

Before he could say another word, though, she spun around, smacking his hand off herself fiercely. "I said I was fine!" She exploded, practically screaming in his face. "I don't need your help, and I sure don't want it either, so do yourself and me a favor and just leave me ALONE!" The last word was so loud that a few people turned to look at them. Her face contorted in rage, and he could see a few flickers of blue-violet light in her eyes, light that could only be the energy he knew slept inside her.

He threw his hands up in a position of surrender, an action that visibly surprised her. "I just wanted to give you this," He took a small card from his pocket and handed it to her. She swiped it up, inspecting it through squinted eyes. "In case you ever needed something. I don't often owe favors, but when I do, I like to pay them right."

Shaking her head, she held up the card and glared at him. "And I'm honestly supposed to believe this?"

He nodded slowly, a little confused. "Is there a reason you shouldn't?"

"Sherlock Holmes. Private Consulting Detective. 221B Baker St." She recited, reading off the top part of the card. "The Sherlock Holmes? The genius detective, Sherlock Holmes?!" He nodded again, and she huffed. "He's not even real, mate!"

Is that what they say about me now?! Just because I'm superior, they assume I must be fictional… Oh, ordinary people are so naïve.  
She was still staring at him, obviously in need of some sort of proof or something. He glanced down the street, stepping nearer to her. "That woman there." He pointed to a middle-aged lady in a green blazer. "She just divorced her husband. Hasn't seen him in a month. What she doesn't know is that he will be on the same bus that she's waiting for right now, wearing the coat she bought him. They'll talk, maybe even kiss, and end up getting off quite a ways from either of their intended destinations to have lunch at the place where they first met."

The girl shook her head. "That is absolute rubbish." Her voice was serious, but the curiosity in her eyes betrayed her words.

"Oh it is, is it?" He grinned. "Only one way to find out."  
He walked around her, heading for the bus stop where the woman was waiting. After a second or two, he heard the girl fall into step beside him, and smiled even wider.

The bus pulled up moments after they reached the stop. The lady climbed on, and they were only a few steps behind her as she paid the fare and took her seat. Sherlock paid for the girl as well, and motioned her to a seat in the back of the nearly empty bus, sliding in beside her. He noticed that now she was watching the mystery lady so intently that she didn't even mind their close proximity.  
The bus pulled off, and the woman in green was staring out the window. Across the aisle from her, a man about the same age sat, staring as blankly as she. It didn't look as though they'd turn around any time soon, so Sherlock decided to give them a little nudge. He reached into his pocket, grabbing a shiny silver pound in his fingers. With a deft flick of his wrist, he tossed the coin into the aisle, right between the two passengers. The girl looked at him in confusion, but with a nod he drew her attention back to the man and woman.  
When the coin landed, it made a tinny sound, and both the man and the woman swung their heads around to look at it. At the exact same moment, they leaned down into the aisle and reached for the shiny circle, but came in contact with each other's fingers instead. The recognition in their eyes when they looked up at each other was like a spark in a dark room. Sherlock looked over at the young woman seated next to him and found that she was practically holding her breath.

The couple straightened, looking at each other intently. The man said something, and the woman began to turn away, but he took her by the hand and said something more. Her expression softened and she turned back toward him, allowing a little smile. He swiped up the coin, pressing it into her hand. Her grin grew even wider, and she slid into a seat alongside him.  
Sherlock and the girl sat too far back to hear their words, but they watched their faces transform as they spoke. The look in the woman's eyes grew more and more kind as they rode along, and she even giggled a few times, her auburn hair bouncing a bit. When the bus stopped to pick up more passengers, the man tapped the woman eagerly, pointing out the window at a café across the street. She beamed at him as he stood, taking her hand and leading her down the steps and out the door like children on a weekend.

With a grin, Sherlock stood, the girl right behind him as they hurried off the bus, keeping the couple in sight. The man and woman found a two-seater table at the café, ordering drinks and chatting pleasantly. Sherlock took a seat a few tables away, the girl sitting in front of him, smiling wide.

"Well, well, well." She shook her head in astonishment. "Seems like you were spot on. Maybe you really are Sherlock Holmes…"

He suppressed a smile, though the flattery touched him more than usual. "I'm glad you think so."

"How did you know all that?" She inquired, her eyes curious.

"I didn't know. I noticed. It's apparent from the woman's shirt sleeves that…" He trailed off with a glance at her expression. "It's… complicated."

She just laughed. "Of course it is…" Her smile faltered a little, then fell. He raised an eyebrow, cueing her to continue. "But, since you really are Sherlock Holmes… maybe you can help me."

"I will do anything I can."

Her chocolate eyes scanned his face suspiciously. He kept his features smooth and sincere. After a long moment, she took a deep breath and leaned a little closer to him. "I need to find someone. Or, rather, a group of someones. There are people after me, Mr. Holmes. And after tracking them I keep finding that they always contact this one organization… An organization that, according to the government, doesn't exist at all. If I can discover them, we may be able to strike up a deal. But if not…" She shifter her gaze, and he read fear in her expression. "They could very well mean my demise."

He nodded slowly. This was truly news to him. It was a detail he had not been informed of beforehand. But that only made it all the more intriguing.  
"I am happy to help. But I must say, if it doesn't bother you much, that I usually like to know who my clients are. Gets rid of the mystery at one end of the case, you see."

She grinned slowly, seeming unsure, but consenting. "Rose." She held out a hand for him to shake. "Rose Tyler."

This time, when he smiled, it was genuine. "Well, Miss. Tyler, now that we're formally introduced, why don't we get back to my office so you can wash that stain out, and I can hear more about this fascinating organization you speak of, hm?"


	5. Chapter 4: Amelia Pond

**Amelia Pond**

Amy finished getting dressed in such a hurry that she was still pulling her shoes on as she raced down the steps to the TARDIS control room. The Doctor was still there, flipping switches and clicking buttons as fast as he pleased, staring intently up at the screen every few seconds or so. She came up behind him, leaning her back on the console near his elbow.

"Find anything new?" She asked, nudging him gently. He shook his head, not looking up from the screen. She could see that the blinking lights were dimmer than the last time he was looking at them. "I thought you said you could trace the signal."

He grumbled in frustration, slamming his palm against the console. Obviously exhausted, he rubbed at his face. To her, it looked as though he hadn't rested in days. "There's hardly anything to trace! I'm losing the signal… It's just disappearing into thin air, and I can't seem to tell why!"

"Well," She tried, "can't you go back to where we were before? Maybe the signal was stronger there. Or you could widen the search area—"

"No!" He boomed, startling her so much that she nearly jumped out of her skin. Whipping his head around, he glared at her, his eyes ablaze with a fury she hadn't known he was capable of. "It's gone, Amy! Vanished without a trace and I can't find it; meanwhile some other maniac is out there tracking it down and I can't stop them! Nothing you say is going to fix this! Get that through your thick skull!"

Horrified beyond speech, she stood there, staring at him with wide eyes that were slowly pooling with tears. Deep, racking sobs were clawing their way out of her throat, and it took every ounce of strength she had to keep them down. Even so, she couldn't stop quivering from the effort.  
"I keep telling you, Doctor. Never be alone…" She choked out, trying to sound firm. Her voice, though, came out as little more than a whisper. "Never. But you don't listen, do you? You just can't be bothered to listen…"

Guilt took over his features, and he sank into the chair, putting his hands over his face. "Oh, Amy… I am so sorry… I… I don't know what got into me…"

"I do." He looked up, green eyes searching her with weary anticipation. Walking around the console, she peered up at the ceilings, arms crossed. "Spending all that time in this dumb machine, with no one to talk to…"

The TARDIS made a strange rumbling noise, as if resenting her words. The Doctor chuckled under his breath with a weak smile, standing from the chair quickly and stroking the machine. "She doesn't like you taking your anger at me out on her… She doesn't think it's fair."

Amy blew air out through her teeth and leaned back against the rail, lowering her chin to her chest. She wasn't getting through to him; he wasn't letting her. Why he had so many walls up, she couldn't say. But something was definitely different; something between them had shifted. "Great. So I'm insulting the TARDIS."

"Yes you are. But she forgives you." His smile had grown wider, but it fell when he saw the look on her face. "A bit like I hope you can forgive me."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, just staring into each other's eyes without even moving. Soon enough, though, the memories came flooding back to her, and Amy couldn't help the smile that escaped. "Of course. How could I stay mad at you?"

He beamed at her, stepping closer and throwing his arms around her in a long hug.  
"Hey!" They both looked up in shock, only to find Rory, standing at the top of the steps, arms spread wide in frustration. They stepped away from each other as he came down the stairs. "I thought we said we'd lay off the hugging. And by we, Doctor, I mean you."

The Doctor smiled, putting his hands up in surrender, and opened his mouth to speak. Before he could, though, a loud tinny beeping cut him off. The trio all turned their heads to look at the screen, and the Doctor let out a little shriek of jubilation when he saw it. Rushing to the console, he ran his fingers over the display with joy, stopping to press more buttons. "Yes, yes, yes!" He raised his arms in the air, pumping his fists like a child at Christmas.

Amy couldn't help but giggle at the display. This was the man she flew away with all those years ago. The one who had yelled at her before, he was the alien.

"Got it!" He exclaimed loudly. "The signal is back! Looks like something is amplifying it…" Trailing off suddenly, he kept messing with the machine while his companions stood by and watched him in confusion.

Amy took a step forward. "What do you mean, something? Don't you know what it is?"

The time lord began to shake his head, but suddenly his eyes grew wide and his jaw went slack as he stared at the screen. At first, Amy thought it was terror in his eyes, but then he smiled, and the grin got wider and wider. He did a funny little dance, glee practically oozing from his every pore.  
"I know exactly what this is." He said, grinning at her and Rory, an excited little boy in front of his parents. "This…" It was a long second before he finished his sentence.  
"This is Torchwood."

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